Paris, 1877

by Kevin Densley

“Please feed the macaws,”
she said to me,
while reclining on her chaise longue.
“I’m feeling too indolent.”
We were on a wide stone balcony,
overlooking the City of Love.
She fluttered a pale hand
towards a pair of brightly plumed
– crimson, yellow and cobalt blue –
South American parrots
clamouring for attention.
I went to get the sunflower seed
but when I returned
both she and the birds
had disappeared, been carried away
upon the zephyrean air.
Sadly, I plucked a lament
on the dulcimer left lying there,
one from the Abyssinia
of our journeys an aeon ago.
Kevin Densley is a poet and writer-in-general. His work has appeared in print in Australia, the UK and the US, as well as on many online venues. His fourth book-length poetry collection, Sacredly Profane, has just been published (late 2020) by Ginninderra Press. He is also the co-author of ten play collections for young people, as well as a multi Green Room Award nominated play, Last Chance Gas, which was published by Currency Press. Recent other writing includes screenplays for films with a tertiary education purpose.
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